


Do Me A Favor

by nightmare_kisser



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Back Scratching, Friendship, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-24
Updated: 2012-05-24
Packaged: 2017-11-05 22:32:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmare_kisser/pseuds/nightmare_kisser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You scratch my back, I scratch yours.” It’s a figure of speech, and Sherlock knows it. John didn’t think Sherlock would take it literally. Not that he’s complaining, mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do Me A Favor

John fidgets in his chair and reaches into his jumper, beneath his second layer, and attempts to alleviate a nagging itch somewhere on his right shoulder blade, but to no avail. Even as he hunches his shoulders and leans into it digging almost painfully into his skin with his middle finger outstretched, he can't reach it.

John tries using his opposite hand, twisting his wrist until it aches and rubbing his thumbnail toward the spot, but the blasted itch is stubborn and spreading, and not to anywhere his hands can reach.

"Dammit," he murmurs under his breath, and he rubs his back against his chair like a bear against a tree, hoping friction will cure the incessant itch. Again, it fails. He growls in frustration. Maybe if he ignores it long enough, it will fade away…

Ah, nope. That won't work. The more he tries to ignore it by purposely thinking of other things, the more he thinks about how he's trying to avoid the itch, and winds up focusing on it in the end, the niggling feeling of irritated, ticklish skin prickling in one spot between his shoulders.

Sherlock walks in the living room then, finding John squirming in his seat and neglecting his laptop, open to a fresh document for their recent-most case.

"John, what are you doing?" Sherlock frowns.

"I have a damn itch on my back that I can't scratch, and it's killing me," John nearly barks, he's so beyond the point of no return. "Gah! Is there an unsharpened pencil or a capped pen anywhere? I need to relieve it before I go mad!"

"Don't be daft," Sherlock says with a roll of his eyes as he comes up behind John's chair. "Stand up."

"What? Why? Too buggered to help me look for one?" John frowns as he rolls his shoulders and rises to his feet.

"No," Sherlock replies as he spins John by the shoulders and hikes up his two shirts. "Because I can just as easily get rid of the annoyance for you. It's faster and less trouble. Now here, hold your shirt up. Using both hands is the most efficient method."

John tenses up. Then he scoffs as he reaches behind his head and holds his shirt up, exposing the skin of his back to the slight chill of the air of their flat. This isn't normal, is it? "I bet you'll want me to scratch yours in return, huh? As the saying goes," John scoffs.

Sherlock's nails are neither long nor short, and being not recently trimmed, they aren't too sharp. He rakes all ten down John's sides with precisely the right amount of pressure to feel satisfying; not ticklish, not painful. He spins his clawed hands in circles as he spirals down the center of John's back, scratching back and forth a little sharper over John's shoulders blades and between them to thoroughly rid him of his initial itch.

But oh, it feels so gratifying to have the rest of his back scratched as well, patches of skin feeling soothed from an itchiness John didn't know he had until Sherlock's nails went over the spot a few times before moving on.

For a moment, John closes his eyes and enjoys the sensation. "Mm," he hums, "My mother used to do this for me. She would scratch my back when I was a child when I came to her, complaining it was itchy. She told me I should put on more lotion, but who can fully put lotion on all of their backs? I can get most of it along my shoulders and the small of my back, but the whole middle is missed, and that's what gets the itchiest."

"I would ask my brother to scratch my back for me when I was a child," Sherlock remarks as he brings his nails down John's spine one final time before retreating completely. John drops his shirts down and tugs them into place, adjusting his jumper. Facing Sherlock, the taller man adds, "I understand the need. And I hope you will return the favor to me when I need it in the future."

"Oh. Um, of course. Yeah. That's only fair," John nods. It's definitely a bit unusual for male friends to scratch each other's back, John thinks, because there is something highly personal about putting one's hands on another's bare back to bring them pleasured relief to an irritant. Still, it doesn't feel like a big deal. After all, Sherlock's fingernails had solved his problem and felt bloody good.

#

Later that week, Sherlock comes to John and jabs his thumb in the air, gesturing behind him. "I'm itchy. Scratch me, would you? I'm using my favor."

"Oh, sure," John says as he sets down his teacup and motions for Sherlock to spin around. He yanks Sherlock's shirttail from inside his trousers and hikes it up best he can, tight as it is, to Sherlock's shoulders. Sherlock pins it behind his neck and sighs contentedly as John's nails graze over his skin, following the planes of his back in zig-zags that leave slightly pink trails in scribbles on Sherlock's pale skin.

"Thank you," comes the obligatory response, and John nods.

"Any time. Actually, could you do mine real quick? Scratching yours made me realize how tingly my back feels. Need it, too."

Sherlock gives a small, amused smile. "Certainly." And so John turns around, lifts his own shirt, and lets Sherlock's nails work their magic.

#

It becomes a sort of routine for them. At one point, Sherlock will come up to John, turn around, unbutton and drop his shirt, or, if it's looser, lift it over his head, and bear his skin to John, seeking the touch, the relief, the closeness.

In return, there are times when John will stutter, "Could you –? Just, if you're not busy, I could use it." and start lifting his shirt and waiting for Sherlock to stop what he's doing for a moment and watch John pivot around for his back to be scratched.

Sometimes, one will be in the bathroom in the morning, towel around his waist and shaving cream on his face, and the other will pop in, use the loo, and on his way out, after washing his hands, he'll scratch the other's back without having been asked, simply because it's exposed and there and everyone gets itchy after waking up in the mornings.

In the end, it's a solid deal. Maybe a bit intimate, maybe more than what a friend would do, but nothing to complain about, mind.


End file.
